


What Happens When a Demon Dreams?

by Fullmoonmere



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Crowley (Good Omens), Comforting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Drama & Romance, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Romance, Tenderness, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-12 19:09:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20569403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fullmoonmere/pseuds/Fullmoonmere
Summary: An exploration into what could have happened if Aziraphale and Crowley didn't recieve Agnes's last prophacy and were not prepared when Heaven and Hell came for them.





	1. Part 1

Crowley has always had a fondness for sleep. It wasn’t necessary to his being as a demon, but it had grown into a habit in the last couple of millennia that he was struggling to break. It wasn’t the sleep that was becoming an issue for him, but instead the dreams that were haunting his psyche. At first, when he discovered how enjoyable sleep was, dreams were an optional portion of his slumber. Most of the dreams he experienced were historical events he had lived through, and they almost always centered around Aziraphale. Lately though, his dreams had become a mandatory part of his weekly sleep, and they had morphed into something terrifying. 

_Aziraphale’s eyes widened in terror before he screamed, “RUN!”_

Upon waking from these new dreams he was bereft to call nightmares, because what demon has nightmares, he always struggled to recall any details of the dreams except for a blinding whiteness that reminded him suspiciously of Heaven and a gut wrenching terror that coated his body is sweat. He always woke gasping for a breath that he didn’t need with Aziraphale’s name ringing on his lips. 

After the first nightmare he simply stopped sleeping. But then he got tired, which was something he hadn’t felt often. As a demon he didn’t need sleep to function unless he had used a lot of his demonic energy for mischief, but lately he hadn’t, which made the tiredness he felt all the more concerning. He ignored it at first, but then he almost dozed off while driving to Aziraphale’s bookshop and that wasn’t an accidental death he really wanted to explain to Hell. So he reluctantly started sleeping regularly again, and the nightmares continued. 

_Aziraphale’s eyes widened in terror before he screamed, “RUN!” Aziraphale’s eyes widened in terror before he screamed, “RUN!” Aziraphale’s eyes widened in terror before he screamed, “RUN!” Aziraphale’s eyes widened in terror before he screamed, “RUN!” Aziraphale’s eyes widened in terror before he screamed, “RUN!” Aziraphale’s eyes widened in terror before he screamed, “RUN!” Aziraphale’s eyes wid-_

Crowley knew that the nightmares were affecting him. He had started to hover around Aziraphale, and Aziraphale had noticed with irritation. Every action he took became tinged with paranoia and the terror from his dreams had seeped into his gut, never fully leaving. But then the apocalypse happened, or tried to happen. Crowley did not really have time to sleep once they realized that Warlock was not the antichrist and that they had in fact lost the son of Satan. From there everything spun into desperation, terror, and grief. Aziraphale refused to run away with him, he learned what rejection felt like, _twice_. The bookshop burned down, and for a few hours he assumed Aziraphale with it. Crowley had once considered what life would be like without Aziraphale and found that he hated it so much that he did not let himself even believe in that possibility. Running into the flaming bookshop screaming Aziraphale’s name made him realize two things: that somethings life really likes to fuck you, and that he was hopelessly in love with Aziraphale. Shortly after this revelation he discovered Aziraphale was in fact not erased from existence and that the apocalypse was still happening. His poor bentley exploded once he reached Tadfield, but Crowley realized he didn’t care as soon as he saw Aziraphale alive and in the flesh again. The apocalypse was averted, and Crowley used the chaos and confusion to tightly grip Aziraphale’s hand and refused to let go. 

What Crowley did not know was that by gripping Aziraphale’s hand so tight, both of them missed Agnes’s last prophecy as it fluttered in their direction, directly passed them, and out of sight. 

Sitting closely together, Aziraphale accepted Crowley’s offer of a place to stay, and they quietly rode the bus back to his flat. Crowley refused to loosen his grip on Aziraphale’s hand. They did not speak a word the whole ride there, as well as the elevator ride up to Crowley’s flat. As the door snicked shut behind them they continued to stand in silence in his flat’s entranceway. 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale whispered after a minute while his hand’s grip tightened minutely. 

“Hmph?” Crowley made an indiscernible noise in response and tightened his grip on Aziraphale’s hand in response. He hoped that Aziraphale could read all the love he was currently pouring through his grip because words were failing him at the moment. 

Aziraphale shifted towards Crowley and slowly brought his free arm around his waist to pull him into a loose hug. Crowley froze, overwhelmed by the feeling of Aziraphale so _close_, but his brain caught up with Aziraphale’s actions as he let go of the hand he was holding to pull his angel even closer. While Crowley had the height advantage over Aziraphale he found himself burying his face into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck as he fought over the emotions that were threatening to swarm him. They had never touched like this, ever. A fleeting brush of fingers as they passed wine back and forth, but never with such intimacy or comfort. He breathed in Aziraphale’s scent and felt the terror still plaguing his stomach flee slightly. 

“I thought we were done for, my dear.” Aziraphale huffed against Crowley’s neck. “I realized that I was not quite ready to die yet, there are so many things I’d like to do first.” 

Crowley could feel the heat of Aziraphale’s blush spreading down neck and he tightened their hug until there was no space left between them. Aziraphale’s breath left a hot trail down the back of his neck and his love for his angel nearly overwhelmed him. The absolute devastation Crowley had felt when he thought Aziraphale was gone crept back up through his body, and he inhaled the scent of old books, dust, something that was purely angelic. 

Aziraphale seemed to sense the emotions rocking through Crowley’s mind because he pressed a kiss down into his red locks and hummed in contentment. Hands stroked up and down Crowley’s back and the words “dear boy” were whispered into his ear. Crowley was incredibly embarrassed to find tears prickling the corners of his eyes as he fought against the sheer relief and love he felt to have Aziraphale so close. Nosing his way up Aziraphale’s neck, Crowley pressed a hesitant kiss on his pulse point and felt the pulse jump beneath his lips. Aziraphale’s skin was softer than he could have ever imagined and he felt his mouth salivating with the need to taste the flesh pressing against his lips. 

Aziraphale shakily pulled back enough to banish Crowley's sunglasses and look him in the eyes. Fingers traced over hollowed cheeks, across brows to settle against Crowley’s bottom lip with a slow caress. Crowley could feel the tears that had been building in his eyes betray him and slip silently down his cheeks to drip on his shirt. Trembling slightly, Aziraphale swiped the tears from Crowley’s cheeks and pressed another hesitant kiss against the wet trials left behind. 

“Aziraphale,” he whispered revenantly, letting all the love he had been keeping locked away for centuries thrum free. He could feel it bleed through his essence and surround Aziraphale’s. “I thought you were dead. Burned away. _Gone_.” The fear of that thought made Crowley’s voice crack with despair. The thumb on his lip halted and he watched as Aziraphale’s eyes grew wider as understanding settled in their blue depths. 

“There is so much love pouring off of you. How… how did I not sense this?” Aziraphale questioned in wonder. “How long? Crowley, how long have you loved me?” 

Crowley could feel the fear trying to take hold again but he tamped it down. Pressing a soft kiss to Azirapahale’s thumb he said, “A very, very long time, Angel. You didn’t know because you weren’t ready. But we don’t have the promise of eternity anymore, who knows when our sides will decide we are too much of a bother to have around.” He shuddered at the thought. “I just couldn’t die without you knowing how much I cherish you. How much you mean to me. How much I love you, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale huffed out a laugh in response. “You daft demon, I love you too.” Crowley felt his eyes widen in shock at Aziraphale’s proclamation. Before he could respond Aziraphale was kissing him, warm and hot. “I can’t believe” another kiss “that you kept this from me.” Lips slid against each other and Crowley’s control broke. “We could have been doing this for centuries, my dear.” With a growl he pushed Aziraphale flush against the wall, pinning his hands above his head as he kissed his way down his neck. Using his teeth he ripped through the tartan bow tie to leave a purple bruise in the hollow of Aziraphale’s throat. His blood was pounding through his human form, each beat screaming for him to take Aziraphale right here against the wall. To mark him, to own him. He tasted divine, the flavor sparking across Crowley’s tongue was the most decadent wine. 

With difficulty Crowley slowly let go of Aziraphale and stepped away, leaving his angel against the wall. Panting he turned until he could get his baser instincts under control. 

“Crowley? What’s wrong, love?” Azirphale stepped towards him and laid a hand on his shoulder, gently rubbing and caressing. It felt like the sweetest torture for Crowley. 

Reaching up, Crowley covered Aziraphale’s hand with his own, stopping his ministrations. “Angel, I have waited so long for this. For you. Everything in me is screaming to fuck you right here but you deserve better than that. This isn't something I want to rush.” Gently cupping Azirapahale’s face, he stroked thumbs across rounded cheekbones. “I want to savor you, and that is going to take me longer than one night, one lifetime even. It has been a trying week, I want to sleep so that when I do fuck you I don’t miss a moment of it.” Leaning forward he pressed a gentle kiss to Aziraphale’s lips, a soft caress to punctuate his point. 

Aziraphale moaned against him, pressing closer. “Crowley, dearest, this is hardly my first time when it comes to the act of fornication. You do not have to be gentle with me, I’m not, what’s the word?” Lips chased after Crowley’s, teasing. “Ah yes. I’m not a virgin, dear boy.” 

Gasping Crowley stepped back. “What!? Angel! I’m scandalized. Who defiled you?”

Smacking Crowley playfully Aziraphale answered, “Stop being dramatic. This is the twenty first century, and I was a part of a discreet gentlemen’s club while you decided to take a century long nap. They may have taught me how to dance the gavotte but that is not all we did.”

A soft smile took over Crowley’s face as he pulled Aziraphale back to him. “I won’t leave you alone again Angel. I’m yours as long as you’ll have me.” 

“Crowley, my love, I plan to have you a very, very long time.” Aziraphale kissed him deeply once again but with less heat. “Let’s go to bed, we deserve a bit of a lie in after all the havoc we prevented.”  
Taking Aziraphale’s hand Crowley led him to the bedroom where they curled up again each other, at peace.

_Aziraphale’s eyes widened in terror before he screamed, “RUN!” Aziraphale’s eyes widened in terror before he screamed, “RUN!” Aziraphale’s eyes widened in terror before he screamed, “RUN!”_

Crowley woke up screaming, tangled in limbs and sheets. He scrambled away from the heat he could feel pressing in around him and stumbled to the floor where he dry heaved until tears streaked his face. Trembling he saw Aziraphale watching him with concern from the bed. “Sorry,” he mumbled. 

“How long have you been having nightmares?” Aziraphale asked quietly as he slid to the floor next to Crowley. He laid comforting hands along Crowley’s back, stroking away the terror still trembling along his form. 

Running shaking hands through his sweat soaked hair Crowley cringed and admitted, “Almost a century.” He fought against the need to hide his vulnerability from Aziraphale. 

“What? Crowley, you know that is not normal, right?” Gathering the demon into his arms, Crowley’s shaking subsided slightly. “You were screaming my name. What were your dreams about?”

Puffing out a sigh, Crowley admitted, “I don’t remember. They fade as soon as I wake up.” He could feel himself blushing and thanked Satan that they were sitting in the dark where Aziraphale could not track the mortification playing across his face. “Angel, let's go back to sleep. We can worry about it tomorrow. I just want to lay with you.”

Aziraphale looked like he wanted to argue but as if he could sense how upset Crowley was about the whole thing, he let it drop. Pulling Crowley back to the bed, they curled up together. Crowley drifted again listening to Aziraphale’s heartbeat.  
——————————————————-

The next day found them in St. James Park as if it were a typical day for them. They walked around with lollies, amiably bickering. The only thing that marked the shift in their relationship was the tight grasp Crowley had on Aziraphale’s hand. The tension from his nightmares was present in his frantic energy as he dragged Aziraphale through the park.

He savored the angelic warmth Aziraphale sent up his arm. It was comforting and did a lot of settle his strung nerves. From the corner of his vision, Crowley saw a flash of black that sent a different type of horror crawling down his spine. Startled, he turned towards the flash and lost his grip on Aziraphale’s hand. 

“CROWL-“ 

Spinning again, Crowley caught sight of Aziraphale bound and gagged, being dragged away by a flock of angels. Throwing his lollie he sprinted towards the angelic force, ready to fight tooth and nail to get Aziraphale back. Everything was happening too fast for him to process fully, his only thought was of Aziraphale in danger.

Before he got too far, Aziraphale’s eyes widened in warning, and Crowley thought he was in another nightmare until a sharp pain reverberated in the back of his head. The ground rushed up to meet him and as his vision swayed Crowley was able to roll over to see a demon standing over him holding a crowbar. Glee shown in their eyes as Crowley's vision slowly faded away to black. 

_Aziraphale’s eyes widened in terror before he screamed, “RUN!”_

Unfortunately for Crowley and Aziraphale they had missed out on the warning Agnes’s last prophecy held for them and they had not had the opportunity to switch bodies to fool the perspective leaders of heaven and hell. They were both about to have a _really_ bad day.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley meets with God and has some of his questions answered.

Crowley became aware first of the pounding in his head, it was a thick, dull ache that beat in time to his heart’s beat. Second he realized all his limbs were shackled together with the heavy chains that only existed in Hell’s execution chamber, this thought was confirmed by the scent of sulfur that wafted up his sinuses like a bad hangover. 

Prying open his eyes, Crowley took in his surroundings. He was chained to a chair in the middle of Hell’s execution room facing an ornate throne that held Prince Beelzebub’s demon form. Fear crept through Crowley’s insides like ice until he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from turning into a snake.

“Crowley.” Beelzebub’s voice reverberated around the chamber and caused Crowley’s headache to worsen. “Welcome back to hell, it’s been awhile.” The smirk the broke across their face caused Crowley to slither around in his seat. That smirk meant that something nefarious was about to happen. 

“Princcce Beelzebub,” Crowley managed to hiss out passed his fear. 

“Do you know why you are here Crowley?”

Swallowing Crowley attempted to will some of his swagger back. “I’m guessing it probably has to do something with the averted apocalypse.”

Beelzebub chuckled in response. “That is certainly a large part of it. Needless to say, Lucifer is _very_ unhappy with you.” Standing Beelzebub approached Crowley, and ran their fingers gently through his hair, stroking softly at his head. “But my dear demon there is certainly a much more dire reason you are here. Did you want to guess what that is?” Their fingers stopped stroking to press sharply against the knot the crowbar left on the back of his skull. 

Crowley was only able to howl in response as pain caused his vision to slightly blacken at the edges. Forcing himself to take a couple of deep breaths, he was able to force the pain back and focus on the Prince again. 

“Crowley, you are hereby charged with treason on two counts: one for betraying your comrades and preventing the war between heaven and hell, and two for betraying your own nature by falling in love with an _angel_.” Beelzebub hissed the last word directly into Crowley’s face as his hair was yanked causing his head to tilt backwards exposing his throat. Beelzebub ran their nails across his exposed flesh, slicing just enough for blood to dribble down into Crowley’s shirt. 

“Love? Demon’s can’t feel love,” Crowley wheezed lying through his teeth. “They can’t sense it either, so I’m not sure how exactly you plan to prove your point.” 

Letting go of Crowley’s hair, Beelzebub stepped away huffing out a laugh. “You are correct on that count, demons can’t sense love.” Crowley’s blood felt like lead as he watched the Prince’s smile grow in front of him. “Angels on the other hand _can_ sense love and you, my terrible excuse for a demon, released a whole hell of a lot of love for one angelic principality last night. Enough to catch the attention of a couple of pissed off archangels who are searching for a little revenge.” Fangs protruded from Beelzebub’s smirk giving the Prince a much more sinister look. “Who am I to step in the way of revenge? I’ve heard the human call it ‘sweet’, is that true?”

Crowley positively shook in the chair he’d been chained to. All he could think of was Aziraphale. His angel’s softness, his kindness, woven together to create the most beautiful creature he could possibly imagine. By loving Aziraphale, he had managed to fuck them both so eternally. He hoped, and was about to pray for the first time in six thousand years, that the archangels wouldn’t kill Aziraphale outright. That they would take some kind of pity on him and blame the whole situation on Crowley’s influence and nature. Aziraphale deserved better than this, better than heaven, better than him. 

As the Archangel Michael walked into the room holding a pitcher of holy water, Crowley knew he was truly and undeniably fucked. He was not making it out of this alive. He struggled against the chains holding him as Beelzebub laughed behind him. Reaching out with his demonic energy he attempted to feel for Aziraphale’s celestial form, he was desperate to touch him again, even if it is just on the ethereal plane. But there was nothing, Heaven and Hell were just too far apart. 

Micheal poured the pitcher into a bathtub that Crowley noticed was sitting at the back of the chamber. The holy water was endless and looked so completely harmless except for the angelic energy radiating from it. It was almost beautiful with the fires of Hell sparkling in the clear depths. 

_“God,”_ Crowley prayed in his mind, _“I understand I was never a good disciple, but I’m begging you to spare Aziraphale. He doesn’t deserve this, he’s better than most of the hosts of heaven. So completely devoted to you with his unwavering faith. Please mother, please spare him.”_

As he was dragged closer and closer to the tub of holy water, Crowley continued to whisper _“spare him”_ under his breath in a mantra. Tears ran unnoticed down his cheeks and he couldn’t help but be glad that Aziraphale at least got to know that he was loved so unconditionally by a demon. He just wished that they had had more time, but he couldn’t regret anything he had spent his life doing. Beelzebub was correct, he wasn’t a very good demon. He cared too much about humanity, and was too soft by far for true evil. Mischief was more of his speed, and he had never seriously harmed a human life. 

The chair scraped against the edge of the tub and was slowly lifted. Crowley realized that they intended to throw him in, chair and all. He shut his eyes and imagined Azirapahale’s face, his smile, his laughter, his eyes. He filled his entire being with the love he felt for Aziraphale as the chair was tipped into the holy water. 

The water hit him face first and the pain was indescribable. Crowley could feel his face disintegrating, chunks melting away to expose the bone underneath. As he sunk into the Holy water he did something so undeniably human, he gasped in a breath, instantly filling his lungs with water. His screams were more of a wet gurgle as his lungs were melted away and the tub filled with his blood and chunks of his flesh, each dissolving slowly in acidic water. 

The last thing Crowley was conscious of himself thinking was _‘I’m so sorry, Aziraphale. Forgive me,'_ before his vision bled away to a white that seemed eerily similar to his nightmares. 

_Aziraphale’s eyes widened in terror before he screamed, “RUN!”_  
———————————————————  
When Crowley comes to again, he is no longer in hell. Instead, he stands in an endless expanse of white. There is no end and no beginning, just a blandness that hurts his eyes. 

“Hello?” He calls but his voice falls flat, no echo bouncing back to taunt him. 

Looking down he realizes that he is wearing the outfit he had on before being dumped into the holy water, but there is no pain, barely even a memory of it. 

“Hello Crowley.”

Turning, Crowley spies an average looking woman who he knows instantly as God. She smiles at him in a way that is comforting, and he hates it. “Hello, _mother_. Where is Aziraphale? Is he safe?”

“Sit down my son.” Before he can move he finds himself seated at a nondescript table across from her. “Your principality is safe, but not for much longer.”

“He doesn’t deserve this, he’s so good. He doesn’t deserve the shame and ridicule that the Archangels put on him.” Staring down at his hands he begs, “Please save him. I’ll do anything. _Anything._ Just spare him, his life.”

She smiles softly. “What can you give me that I do not already have?”

Crowley feels defeat heavy in his chest. He drops his head into his hands and weeps. He cries for his fall, for Aziraphale’s life, for the unfairness of the whole situation. “Mother, he is by far the best of your creations. I don’t understand why I am the only one who sees it.” 

“Shhhh, my child, calm yourself. We have time and hope yet.” She reaches out and settles one hand on his arm and he instantly feels the heaviness lessen. “Tell me, Crowley, what do you remember about your time before your fall?”

He lifts his head and stares at her dumbfounded. “ I don’t remember anything. None of the fallen angels do, it’s part of the punishment.”

She shakes her head. “That is incorrect. All of them remember some aspect of their lives as angels. Except for you.” 

“What?” He is dumbfounded. “Why? What makes me so special?”

“Because that is exactly what you are. Special, my child, my favorite son. You are _miraculous._” Smiling at him she touches two fingers to his forehead. “And now it is time. _Remember._”

Crowley’s eyes blank out and he remembers.

_He was created in the beginning, the very beginning. Most of his days were spent in the presence of God, they discussed many things: plans for the universe, the angels, even music, but mostly they talked of creation. He was charged with mapping out the universe, tracing stars and patterns, giving purpose to the emptiness. Burning systems, celestial gases and colors, he radiated joy from it, he loved the darkness and the voids of space. The coldness._

_Slowly the universe expanded, and the vastness of it was too great for him to handle. God started to create other beings to assist him, and slowly the heavenly host grew and grew. Everything was content, until it wasn’t. One of his helpers flew too near a new star system and burned their wings. That was when the angels learned of pain, learned of the negative things that came with the positives of life. He carried the injured angel to God, blood staining his clothes, asking “Why?”_

_She explained that life needs balance to exist, there must be pain with joy, otherwise the joy wouldn’t feel so wonderful, so ethereal. He grew curious and wanted to know what else existed besides joy and pain, she told him to be patient that he would experience it all._

_After the Angel was injured God called him to other duties. She taught him the art of healing and kept him in Heaven to spread his healing touch amongst the other angels. He was charged in lessening the pain others felt, in returning joy when it was forgotten. Time sped on and he was content._

_After a millennium God called him back to her side. “Look,” she whispered in his ear. He looked and spied an angel with bright white gold curls, and a captivating smile._  


_“Who is he?” He asked, “He is beautiful.”_

_“His name is Aziraphale, and he will teach you everything there is to know about life.”_

_Him and Aziraphale were inseparable. They did everything together, he showed Aziraphale the secrets of healing and in return Azirphale showed him how to appreciate all the things he had overlooked. After a time he realized that there was a warmth in his chest every time he looked at Aziraphale and he couldn’t place the feeling so he asked God._

_“What you are feeling is love.”_

_He was confused because as angels they were tasked with loving all things._

_“My child, this is a different type of love. It is different than the love you feel for the things around you, and even than the love you feel for me.”_

_He attempted to deny it but realized that it was true._

_“Tell me if I told you, you had to choose between healing and Aziraphale, or seeing the stars and Aziraphale, what would you choose?”_

_His answer was always Aziraphale and would always be Aziraphale. He grew fearful with that knowledge, afraid because it made him so different. God sent him on his way and after a time he grew comfortable with the change, until one day everything went wrong._

_It started with Aziraphale’s tears. He had never seen an angel cry before, or feel such sorrow. It was confusing for him but he knew it was a negative thing, and he never wanted to see the sadness on Aziraphale’s face ever again._

_Aziraphale has been struggling with another angel, Gabriel. Gabriel was jealous of the attention Aziraphale received from God and did not understand the type of love Aziraphale felt. Gabriel went out of his way to humiliate Aziraphale at every possibility._

_He did not understand why Gabriel had such an issue with Aziraphale or him, and so he went back to God._

_“My son, do you remember when we talked about balance?”_

_He nodded in confirmation._

_“You, my child, are fated to keep balance in order. While you heal and create, that is not your true purpose. You have a very trying path, and I fear that you will hate me by the end of it. But it must be.”_

_He tried to comfort his mother but she it interrupted. “Tell me, if you had to choose between me and Aziraphale, what would you choose?”_

_He opened his mouth to answer, but closed it again in hesitation. She waited. After a prolonged silence he answered ‘Aziraphale.’_

_She nodded in confirmation. “That is what makes you so special. You love him so deeply and unconditionally that you do not yet understand the entirety of the feeling yet.” Taking his hands in hers she continued. “A day is coming very soon that will change everything. Samael has been very unhappy with me as of late. He will be cast out to create his own world called Hell. Many of the angels will follow and with this, there will be balance created. Good and evil, evil and good. You will also be cast out of heaven.”_

_For the first time he felt fear._

_“Do not be afraid. It is all part of the plan. I can’t tell you when it happens but it is coming very fast, my beautiful boy.”_

_With that she sent him away with more questions than there were answers._

_The angels came for him that night but Aziraphale came first. Aziraphale’s eyes widened in terror before he screamed, “RUN! Go, please go, I do not know why but Gabriel is coming for you and his intentions are not pure.”_

_He pulled Aziraphale to him before whispering “I love you, Aziraphale. Don’t fear, we will be reunited soon.” Leaning forward he brushed their lips together for the first kiss in all of time._

_Gabriel entered, chained his wrists and dragged him away. “You are charged with loving another more than God, and you will fall for it.”_

_And so he fell. His wings snapped and burned, agony filled his mind. As he plummeted into the depths of hell he forgot his name, he forgot Gods love, and he forgot his love for Aziraphale._

_He landed in a half dead heap before Lucifer._

_“Welcome to Hell, Crawly….”_

————————————-  
Crowley came back to himself breathing heavily. _“What the fuck?”_

“I’m sure you have questions, Raphael.” God answered calmly.

“Don’t call me that!” Crowley screamed. “That is not my name anymore. Not since you cast me down.” 

God had the sense to look regretful, but that broke something inside Crowley. 

“Why? Why would you do this to me? To Aziraphale?” He struggled to get the words out as tears choked him. “I don’t understand. I’ve loved Aziraphale longer than I can remember. Why can’t we be together? Why did you take my memories away from me?”

“Crowley, you are destined to be together, to love each other. But you are the first angel to be endowed with free will, I could set you on the path but not choose the direction you took. It was all part of the plan.” She rolled her eyes in a very human way. “You two have been pining after each other for centuries. It was incredibly frustrating to watch.” 

“Fuck the plan!” He was having a hard time wrapping his head about the new memories bouncing around in his mind. “Wait! My memories were taken away, but why doesn’t Aziraphale remember me from before? Did you take his fucking memories too?”

She shook her head sadly. “No, I’m afraid Gabriel is behind that.” 

“How in the fuck did he end up an Archangel? He’s such a bastard.”

“There was a vacant space after you fell. I admit that I wasn’t happy with the promotion he received.” 

Crowley growled in response. “How do I fix this? He deserves retribution.”

“I agree and you have my blessing. In regards to what happens next you have two choices: one you stay here and cease to exist, Aziraphale will also perish-“

_“Not an option,”_Crowley interrupted. 

“I didn’t think you’d like that one.” Smiling she continued, “Two: you reclaim your place as the Archangel Raphael and as the humans say ‘go kick some ass.’”

“I accept.”

“One thing my child, if you become Raphael again you will cease to be a demon, but you will also not be an angel. While you make a terrible demon, there is too much of your angelic self still remaining, but you have too much corruption to be reinstated as an angel. You’ll become something else.”

“What does that mean?”

She shrugged, “I’m not sure. It’s ineffable.”

Crowley groaned and held out his hand. “I’ll do it, mother.”

She smiled. “I knew you would my child.”

Grasping his hand she flooded him with power. 

White filled Crowley’s vision for the third time in the short day as his old powers returned to settle in his chest. He felt his hair growing, tumbling down his back into dark red ringlets, his body elongated, filling out with muscle. Blinking he could feel how the pupils of his eyes shifted and returned to a normal round shape, the gold bleeding away to a rich copper. Reaching out he felt his staff materialize in his hand  
With a tug God pulled him into an embrace and whispered, “Do me proud, Raphael,” before the white void faded around him. 

With a blinding flash that decimated the lower ranking demons in the near vicinity, Crowley reappeared in the tub of Holy water. He sat up with a gasp and took in the shocked looks surrounding him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Leave me a comment or some love


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